


Oblation

by welpplew



Series: To Kiss the Hands That Feed [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, account of what its life to peel and feed, fluff but underlying horny, fr i just wanted to write a detailed, idk yall the thought of feeding your lover, orange slices to your beloved, shit makes me crazy, this is a stand alone in the series, you dont need to read 'i want us both to eat well'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:55:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26057578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/welpplew/pseuds/welpplew
Summary: It’s not often that Osamu gets the chance to act upon his desires as Sakusa's proclivity for cleanliness prevents any sudden bursts of teasing where physical boundaries are crossed. But he doesn’t mind that he can’t kiss the man silly in front of a convenience store and mingle their popsicle-stained tongues to create a new color—private hands offer the loveliest acts of reverence.
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Series: To Kiss the Hands That Feed [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1891636
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35
Collections: 🐶🍙 omigiri fanfic collection





	Oblation

**Author's Note:**

> “Without the hand, the lamp would remain cold. Without the hands–my unfortunate Antigones–the brother would remain unburied.”  
> The Hand Has Twenty-Seven Bones—: These Hands If Not Gods by Natalie Diaz

It’s not often that Osamu gets the chance to act upon his desires as Sakusa's proclivity for cleanliness prevents any sudden bursts of teasing where physical boundaries are crossed. But he doesn’t mind that he can’t kiss the man silly in front of a convenience store and mingle their popsicle-stained tongues to create a new color—private hands offer the loveliest acts of reverence.

-

Osamu’s hands redden under the near-boiling water of the faucet. He’s lathered and rinsed twice now but obviously, the weight over his shoulder is still displeased. Large hands pull his from the water and coat his skin with viscous blue liquid. Strong, boney fingers slip their way between the dips and valleys of Osamu’s hands, lathering the soap until the suds threaten to drown the pair where they stand. 

Deftly, and with the back of his hand, Sakusa shuts off the water. “Don’t touch anything,” he says, reaching for two clean hand towels. 

Osmau behaves and holds his hands up in the air with his arms bent at the elbows, stock-still and serious, like a doctor being prepped to perform open-heart surgery. Asks, did you decide on which one you liked best?” 

His boyfriend nods and makes thorough work of drying Osamu’s hands. “I washed it too.” 

And Osamu smiles softly. “As long as you feel comfortable.” 

Usually, he is less keen on following orders and more suited to doling them out. With Sakusa, however, he’s more than willing to roll over and obey. Especially when his boyfriend has already agreed to one of his many cliched requests. 

So, with patience and quiet, bubbling anticipation, Osamu lets his boyfriend lead him through the intricate ritual of his pre-meal preparations. 

The meal in question: a mandarin orange, lovingly peel and fed to Sakusa, by the steril hands of his doting boyfriend. 

After nine months together and the gradual expansion of Sakusa’s boundaries, he agreed to let Osamu feed him under strict conditions. And Osamu was, and still is, happy to comply. Happier even, when considering the extent of the other man’s trust in him. 

“Ok,” Sauksa says, throwing the dirty towels in the small laundry basket he keeps in his kitchen, refusing to reuse an already used rag. “Go sit at the table and make sure you don’t touch anything on your way there. I’ll bring the orange to you.” 

Osamu follows the given instructions and slinks to the dinner table, uses his foot to pull out a chair for him to slide into. It’s not soon after he’s seated that Sakusa joins him, little round fruit in hand. 

Handing the mandarin to Osamu, Sakusa says, “don’t let it touch the table, especially after it's peeled.” 

He lets the fruit roll in his hands and examines it. It’s not heavy, not physically at least. But the notion it holds, of trust and intimacy. Of trust in intimacy. Such weight threatens to make his hands shake.

“I won’t. Promise.”

“I trust you.” 

-

He feels the pith of the mandarin creep its way under his fingernail, waxy in its obtrusion. 

The skin peels away at his command and his fingers, despite their conscious attempt at being gentle, wet with the juice bleeding from the paper-thin membrane that covers the fruit’s tender flesh. Mechanically, he rips at the skin, gives way to the vulnerable sweet underneath, and once naked in his hands, he pries the orange in two. 

He separates a single slice from one of the halves. 

And lifts the slice to Sakusa’s mouth and waits patiently as his boyfriend gathers the nerves needed to open his mouth and take the fruit from his fingers. 

He feels a puff of warm air on his hand, a sigh, and watches intently as Sakusa moves closer to the awaiting fruit. His lips part and his mouth opens to take the translucent wedge of flesh between Osamu’s fingers. 

_Like feeding a tiger,_ he thinks, as he slowly releases his grip. 

Sakusa pulls back and chews and Osamu imagines the pierce of his teeth through tender pulp letting loose the very juice that covers his fingers, flooding Sakusa’s tongue, sugary and slick. 

“If we’re going to keep doing this, you can’t keep staring.” 

“And if I do?” 

The other man pouts, “you’ll spoil the fruit.” 

And Osamu laughs, fingers picking at a stray string of pith, a straggler amongst the veins of white. “You’re so dramatic. And pretty. It’s hard not to stare.” 

“Shut up.” 

His elated heart beats fast in his chest and his hands repeat themselves; the gentle, conscious pull of flesh from flesh, the fruit turning from sustenance to offering, transferring from his fingers to parted lips. 

Piece by piece he feeds Sakusa, feels warm breath on his fingers as he relinquishes the fruit from his hand. His skin tingles, tempted. Each slice frays at his reasonability and fuels his desire to press the honeyed pad of his thumb to the plush of Sakusa’s lips. 

Instead, he asks, “is it good?” 

Sakusa hums and Osamu sees him run his tongue across his lower lip to catch a stray drop of juice from rolling down his chin—his neck, under the collar of his shirt and between his toned pectorals—and onto the table, dirtying the varnish. 

“Last one. Ready?” 

As he has been, he holds the fruit up in oblation and waits patiently for Sakusa to meet him halfway. But instead of the expected heat of Sakusa’s breath, he feels long fingers encircle his arm and brush at the petal-soft skin of his inner wrist. 

Osamu’s heart skips in his chest causing his pulse to jump under cold fingers. With bated breath he watches as Sakusa takes from his fingers, eyes following the languid flex of his jaw as he chews. 

Then, just as a familiar warmth settles deep in his stomach, the hot slick of Sakusa’s tongue traces up the palm of his hand, lapping at the sticky rivlets of juice. And he takes again, but instead of fruit, this time it’s Osamu’s fore and middle fingers.

In response, Osamu presses down on the muscle, petting it softly as he slowly thrusts his fingers between Sakusa’s soft lips, daring, sometimes, to scrape against sharp teeth. 

He removes himself from Sakusa’s pliant mouth, sugar-coated and dripping, and takes his fingers into his own mouth, allowing him a taste of what's to come. 

And dark eyes follow. 

Osamu meets them, holds their gaze, mirrors their desire.

“Will you feed me, Kiyoomi?”

**Author's Note:**

> *ben wyatt voice* "It's all about the hands" 
> 
> Anyway, what can I say about his fic except for that I'm a simple girl who understands the intimacies surrounding food and lovers but has yet to experience such affinities for herself and so must write scenarios in which to live vicariously through.
> 
> As always, comments, kudos, and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated!
> 
> Also, here's my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/welpplew) if you want to cry over haikyuu!! with me


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